


Diamonds and Gold

by mkstales (mktellstales)



Series: Archived Work: 2013-2015 [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Burglary, Diamonds, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mktellstales/pseuds/mkstales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'd love to crush these-" John said of the diamonds ,"and cover your body in the dust; watch you sparkle while I make you tremble."<br/>Sherlock leaned his chest into John's touch, bent his back and threw his head back to face the ceiling. He captured John's wrists, holding them tightly against his chest as he started to roll and rock again.<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diamonds and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Published:2014-08-24
> 
> Comments:2 - Kudos:23  
> Bookmarks:1- Hits:401  
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When John heard the second shot ring out it took him several seconds to realize it had come from his gun. It took another forty seconds for him to let go when he felt another pair of hands wrap around his and pull at the weapon. Another ten seconds after that for him to hear the voice calling out to him. Sherlock's voice.

"John!"

John looked up from the dead man on the ground at his feet, and saw Sherlock's face in the relative darkness, watched him cross the room and place his leather clad gloves over his face.

"John, are you alright?"

That close, John could see the tear in Sherlock's shirt where the bullet had hit, and the blood staining around it. John suddenly found himself back in reality.

"He shot you." John said.

"Yes, he did."

"He saw your face."

"Yes, he did. But you took care of it John. You took care of me."

"We should go. Someone had to have heard those shots."

"I'm led to believe gun shots aren't an alarming sound in New York city." "Sherlock-"

"Yes, we'll go. I just need the bullet that went through him."

Sherlock pulled a small knife from his pocket and dug into the player of the wall, retrieving the bullet that had gone from John's gun, into the security guard and then into the wall. He clutched it in his hands and grabbed John. "What about the bullet from his gun?" John asked.

"Still in me."

"Oh, Christ."

"It's fine- just get us back to the hotel."

John had to wonder, if he had never met Sherlock Holmes, all those years ago in the back of a dark and dingy pub, would he be doing the things that he was doing.

John was a doctor; a soldier. He was a good man. He called his mum every Sunday, made the two hour train trip once a month to have dinner with her. He washed his hands before every meal, flossed and brushed his teeth in the morning and before bed. He had killed, yes, but for war- to save lives, and somehow that made it justified.

Sherlock too was a good man, though there would be plenty making a queue to say otherwise. He cared for few, but when he did choose to, the sentiment was fierce and deep. Yes, Sherlock was a good man, but he had been too intelligent and too bored for too long.

So, John really want surprised when one night, after too much Chinese take away and wine, Sherlock casually told him that he could rob the jeweler down the street from their flat, and get away with it.

_"The owners, Mr and Mrs Glaudini, are a lovely couple; Romanian, married for forty two years, lived in London for thirty of those years. They opened the shop in 79. Good people, but to trusting. They only have one lock on each of their doors-all those loose diamonds and gemstones, the gold coins to be melted and made into those exquisite bracelets Mr Glaudini crafts, and the only security that have is the combination locks and one video camera"_

_"But the shop is on a corner;” John said. “At least three CCV cameras point towards it, and there's one of those pubs next door, the kind that replays every football out rugby match ever recorded. It's always full of people."_

_"It's loud, and most of the patrons are drunk. No one would notice a man in black, quickly opening the lock-"_

_"Which I'm sure you know the combination to."_ John interrupted.

_"Of course."_

_"Alright, so you get in from the alley, no CCV there, you avoid the camera inside, bag up the diamonds and the gold, and manage to get out and home. What do you do with loose gems?"_

_"The underground market is full of people looking trade their cash for anything else worth its value. Of course, I would keep a few for myself."_

_"Because diamonds are sexy?"_  John asked, sliding out of his chair, and crawling across the small space between them on the floor before depositing himself between Sherlock's legs.

Sherlock reached a smooth, easy hand out from beside him and placed his fingers underneath John's chin, lifting too his head.

 _"You covered in diamonds is sexy."_  He said, and coolly leaned forward to press a hard kiss against John's mouth, mostly lips sucking on lips, and tongue teasing at seams.

Knowing that Sherlock had entertained the thought of cat burglary was one thing, and John didn't give it much thought. Sherlock was always coming up with mad things his genius would allow him to: killing someone slowly over time with poison, altering a person's memory; faking his own death. John never took him seriously.

Until the night John was woken by the sound of pinging; one object hitting against many others on the empty space in the mattress beside him. It was the sound that roused him from his sleep, but it was the weight of a body on top of him that made him open his eyes.

John blinked into the dim light until he could make out Sherlock, clad only in black and straddling him.  _"Sh'lock?"_  John asked.

Sherlock smiled and held out the Palm of his hand. It was hard to make out in the dark, but once the light from the street lamp caught just right, it was impossible to ignore the sparkle.

_"Sherlock, these are- you did it? You bloody robbed that shop?"_

_"Shh, John- you do have the windows open."_

_"Sherlock, this is not good."_

_"It's fine John."_

_"Fine? We live barely six clicks away!"_

_"John."_

Sherlock tipped his hand so that the diamonds slid from his palm and hit against John's chest. He then leaned down and ghosted his lips over the others,  _"I said that it's fine."_

 _"Sher-_ " John's plea of protest was cut short by Sherlock's tongue plunging deep into his mouth, and rolling his hips slowly until he heard a moan rise from John's throat.

Sherlock grinned against John's lips ans repeated the motion; slower and harder until he knew all of John's protesting had died away. Their mouths slid together, sloppy and open. John's hand lifted to touch Sherlock, but his fingers brushed against the pile of gems beside him before heads it anywhere near Sherlock's body.

They were hard and cold, and relatively small, but there was a good amount of them. He picked one up between his fingers, let the edge cut into his skin. John dropped out back into the pilot, stained a little with his blood, and finally brought his hand up to Sherlock, snatching his curls in his fist. Sherlock broke their kiss just long enough to moan against John's ear. John arched his back off from the bed, and pushed his growing erection into Sherlock, who was already completely hard; solving a puzzle tended to do that to him, and for Sherlock, robbing the shop was nothing more than a puzzle. John's hand left Sherlock's hair and pulled up at the collar of his shirt, working out up his back and over his head until Sherlock was forced to sit up in outer to escape the thin black t-shift. John didn't let him lean back down for the kids he was so desperate to start up again, and instead ran the palm of his hand down Sherlock's milky chest.

 _"I'd love to crush these_ -" John said of the diamonds ," _and cover your body in the dust; watch you sparkle while I make you tremble."_

Sherlock leaned his chest into John's touch, bent his back and threw his head back to face the ceiling. He captured John's wrists, holding them tightly against his chest as he started to roll and rock again.

_“Oh God, Sherlock- trousers, pants; take them off.”_

Sherlock stood up from John’s lap, his feet on either side of John’s thighs, and unbuttoned his trousers. He slipped them off, taking his pants with. The displacement of his weight against the mattress as he lifted each foot up to untangle himself from the fabric caused he diamonds to fall and scatter across the floor; a few of them slid underneath John’s back as John wiggled free of his pyjama bottoms.

John slid his hands up Sherlock’s thighs, hooked his thumbs into the dip of his pelvis, and pulled him back down on top of him and into an electric kiss. Sherlock pulled their lips away, and traced his tongue along John’s jawline, down his neck, and his chest, spending a considerable amount of time flicking it around John’s nipples over and over again, grinning at the noises it elicited from the man underneath him. He continued on down his chest, over the tight muscles in his abdomen, and through the crease of where his hips joined with his pelvis.

 _“Sherlock.”_  John whispered, his hips wildly bucking off from the sheets.

 _“Shh.”_  Sherlock soothed, setting the flat of his hand against John’s belly, and pushing him back down.

 _“Sherlock.”_  John repeated. He was desperate for the teasing to end, for some kind of real contact between he and his lover.

Sherlock slid his own body back up against John’s. He lined them up sinfully perfect so that their cocks, over sensitive with arousal slid against one another with each roll and snap of their hips.

John wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s waist, and reached his hands back to hold onto the headboard. The diamonds that had rolled underneath him, dug into his back, and he could feel the blood from little cuts smearing across his skin and seeping into the sheets.

Using his position of leverage, John pushed himself hard into Sherlock, and watched his mouth fall open in pleasure, and listened to the profanities tumble off his tongue.

“ _Fuck, John- Fuck.”_

 _“God, yes, Sherlock.”_  John hitched his legs up higher on Sherlock’s body,  _“Make me come.”_

John pushed up, and Sherlock rolled down, and both men sucked in a sharp breath, and went silent before calling out the others name.

Sherlock collapsed immediately, and John took a moment before uncurling himself and falling flat onto the bed.

_"I'm still cross with you. Sex isn't going to make me either that you bloody stole diamonds from that elderly couple. That's their living, Sherlock."_

_"I didn't even take half of what they had, but the amount I did take is just enough for them to claim their insurance, which is nearly twice the market price of the stones."_

_"Oh, so you're a noble their then?"_

_Sherlock snorted, "please, one theft does not make me a thief, John."_

_"It is just one, right? You've proves your point."_

_"Of course."_  Sherlock kissed John's temple, and laid his head down on his chest.

"Fuck!" Sherlock yelled with his teeth around his wrist.

John stood over Sherlock, his sleeves rolled up to his arms, and a metal instrument digging around in Sherlock's shoulder. "I've almost got it, love. Just a little bit more."

"John, it hurts-"

"I know. Just give me one more minute."

John reached  behind him for the small scissor inside his medical bag. He slipped the tip into Sherlock's wound and cut into his skin. With the incision bigger, John was able to reach his fingers into the blood and passed the muscle and bone to grab a hold of the bullet and pull it out out.

"It's missed anything vital. I'll stitch it up, but I don't have any antibiotics."

"I'll be fine."

"I don't have anything for the pain either- just some aspirin."

"I'll take four and the wee bottles of alcohol in the fridge."

John laughed while he finished cleaning Sherlock's wound and started to run the surgical thread into the needle "I couldn't have prescribed you anything better."

The first time hadn't been the last time. Sherlock found other vulnerable shops, deduced in an instant the best way to get in and get out, and then he did it. As he ventured further out of London, John no longer waited in the flat for Sherlock you return and fuck him through his left over adrenaline. John had become the getaway man.

And together they made their way through the city, and the countryside, stealing and shagging.  They made the papers, but Scotland Yard had no clue where to even begin. Sherlock was like a cat, slipping into the shops, picking the cabinets and dropping just enough gems and jewelry into a small, velvet lined bag, and then slipping back out into the night

A Detective Inspector did come by shortly after their return to London, and Sherlock robbed a shop near their flat once again.

 _“We’re not saying that we suspect you Mr. Holmes.”_  The DI said, running a tired hand through his graying hair,  _“One of the other witnesses placed you there, and we were just hoping that maybe you saw a bit more than she did.”_

 _“You should know, Detective Inspector Lestrade, that eyewitness testimony in any kind of case is hardly conclusive. People only see a third of what they’re capable of, and then they only remember it right three percent of the time.”_  Sherlock said, sipping in his tea from his chair.

_“Yes, but I’ve been told from some operators at The Yard that you observe a bit more than that.”_

Sherlock grinned over the porcelain of his mug,  _“I do.”_

_“So, did you observe anything that night, then?”_

_“I’m afraid not. I was out for a walk with my partner, and I don’t often see much beyond him.”_

_“Right. Did Dr. Watson see anything?”_

_“You’d have to ask him. He’s working at St. Bart’s training hospital; training.”_

_“Yes, thank you.”_  The DI stood, and tucked his notebook into the pocket of his coat. “If you do recall anything, give us a call, yea?”

_“Of course.”_

Soon after that, they took a holiday to America.

John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, calming him down through the pain that was coursing through his entire arm and upper body. He had gotten sick three times; twice in John’s lap.

“This is the last time Sherlock.” John said.

“We bought the gun, because we know something like this could happen over here. Just think how much worse it could have been without it.”

“I have been, and I can’t bear it.”

Sherlock sighed, and shifted his position against the pillow, wincing at the pain it brought, “If you want to stop, then we’ll stop. But do you really think that you can?”

John thought for a moment about leaving America and going back to London. They had enough cash and gems to last them more than one lifetime, but it wasn’t about that. It was about Sherlock doing something that no one else could, better than anyone else could, and it was about taking John with him on the adventure.

John couldn’t just go back to training self entitled twats at the hospital. He couldn’t go back to stitching up drunkards and clumsy children. And though sex with he and Sherlock had always been good, it would never be as good as fucking on a bed full of newly acquired diamonds and sapphires and emeralds, and gold.

He needed it, just the same as he needed air; just the same as he needed Sherlock.

“No, love.” John bent down and kissed the top of Sherlock’s head. “Let’s keep going.”

 


End file.
